to know a fish go to the water

to know a bird's song go to the mountains

"The Earth is a babe still

In nights spent suckling o'er pale light

Of the Moon that cradles the lands and seas

But She weeps, too, in her transience

At the break of dawn.

There, the Moon fades like morning mist

And the Earth becomes a man again

Whenever they part."

Elegant hands clapping, Lady Yong-hi praised, "That is very lovely, Lili."

A breeze whistled through the brilliant red foliage of the flame trees in Lady Yong-hi's private gardens. Long crimson summers were beautiful in the north, I recalled. The fire season had made its mark in the scenery; the warm sun beating down on the painted eaves of the pavilion we occupied, the vibrant sprays of matured valerian and mountain irises, and the bowl of ice water next to the Lady for dipping her hands.

"I am humbled, my lady, but I still think I need practice," I admitted, hiding the glumness of my tone with modesty. I memorized the verses perfectly, but it nagged me to no end; my tongue slipped in the middle part and there were lisps in the last one.

Lady Yong-hi smiled in encouragement. "Let me assure you; you did very well for your age," she lifted her cup to her mouth, musing over her sweet dew tea; the brew was clear and pale as white citrus flesh, a stray kerria petal floating atop. "There lay the Moon wept," she uttered in Kai. Whenever she spoke in foreign tongue, it made her voice naturally deep and eloquent beyond compare. However I longed to understand why she always sounded so poignant in it. "It is a bit difficult reading Lady Kohyoe's pieces, her prose could be quite elaborate and nuanced."

Her painted lips captured the rim, taking a delicate sip. "Which leaves me to wonder," the Lady said, fine brows knit in curiosity, "why have you chosen one of her poems?"

"Mother told me she was your favorite," I confessed, pursing my lips. A mild heat crept at my neck. "I want to read her works for you."

The moment Lady Yong-hi beamed, my heart leapt. She'd always been so lovely, but there was something that made my chest swell in the way her lips curled and her cheeks dimpled. It felt rare and girlish. Like a reflection, I smiled too, of how contagious it was.

Fingers pressed to her mouth, Lady Yong-hi giggled. Her blue eyes found mine and they crinkled in blithe. "You are such a precious girl," she uttered, as her hand reached for the top of my head and began to smooth my hair in a fond caress. "That is very considerate of you, Lili."

For an interval, I forgot who I was and started to act like my physical age. I didn't mind. That's exactly how I felt, like a blushing coy little girl.

"Now, tell me, my sweet girl," the Lady tapped my nose, effortlessly riveting my attention. "Who is your favorite poet?"

Having cleared my mind, I answered, "Hogai, my lady."

"Oh, a Koukan poet."

I bobbed my head. "His works are simple but they are beautiful as well. I like most of his poems, actually."

Craning her head to the side, Lady Yong-hi then enthused, "Is that so? Shall I recite one of his works?"

Before the question was answered, a soft-spoken voice intervened from the threshold.

"Mother."

There Soo-won was; small and nimble, as he was ushered in by a maidservant. He strode towards the table, light in his steps, despite his layered robes of cream, clove-tan, and deep maroon. Lady Yong-hi brightened; the twinkle in her eyes reminded me of my mother's when she felt the urge to embrace and coddle me with affection.

"Soo-won," his mother beckoned for him; her face colored in delight, and for awhile, I felt happy for her. And a tad jealous of the boy. "Come, there is a vacant seat next to Lili. Would you like tea, my dear? There are some biscuits here too."

Somehow, I instinctively moved away a little once he situated himself on his cushioned seat. Sharing time with this mother-and-son pair alone made me comparable to an outsider who watched them a bit too closely—intimately—against my liking. I loved spending hours with the Lady, but her son was the apple of her eye. I'd rather not take that away from him.

After Soo-won regarded me with a courteous nod which I returned with the same curt gesture, he then waved his hand, assuring his mother: "It's fine. I've already eaten with Father. I came to see if you're doing well."

"I am, my Won. It's very sweet of you to be here for me," replied Lady Yong-hi, pouring tea on an empty cup. "Will you stay with us?" her tone was hopeful, that it immediately felt bad to remind her that even her tea had gone cold.

With a dejected sigh, Soo-won's head dipped. "I'd like to but I still have my lessons."

"Oh. Is that so?" her lips pulled back, but her smile remained in understanding. "Then another time, I hope?"

Soo-won nodded. His golden hair tumbled on his collar. "Of course, Mother," he assured, his mouth curved up, and gently, "another time."

Once he departed from his short visit, I did my best to buoy her up with our conversations. However it never escaped me that his tea cup was left untouched for a time. That was until his mother had the heart to drink it all herself.

—

I idly kicked a pebble.

It was high noon and I already didn't fancy the idea of mindlessly talking to Soo-won about how pretty the flowers were this time around. It was four times, I recalled with a miserable sigh. Five year-old girls were quite a tedious bunch, weren't they?

Prodding a rosy cluster from an old bellflower shrub, I missed Haru. Pretty as flowers were, that boy wouldn't give a damn whenever he stomped one unsuspectingly. I blew out a long sigh, disturbing a lady bug from a flower stalk. I watched it flee with its tiny wings and a part of me longed to fly away.

As if they had a will of their own, my feet began to move. At the back of my mind, I thought that I could perhaps share a hearty talk with my bodyguards though I had no inkling were they stationed themselves. Treading about, I was a little relieved that my peach-colored dress was simpler than the usual heavy garb my mother made me wear. I owed thanks to Jinsei's summer heat for that.

In my aimless walk, the winding paths were like a maze; one could get lost for hours in the quiet scenery and you wouldn't even mind it. Tall gnarled evergreens would line the lawn with birds crooning on rigid branches. There would also be massive walls of moss-ridden stone and multiple stone wells and gates made of hard ashwood. Somehow, I found myself imagining a golden-haired boy walking down the same path with so much adventurous spirit in his eyes.

He might as well have, I mused absentmindedly, and then added: countless of times.

It also occurred to me as an afterthought that my bodyguards would have a difficult time searching for me with this kind of complex structure; provided that I was expected to spend my time with the lordling after his classes, which would mean that I would be offered a few precious minutes of privacy. An idea dawned, and as much as I was ill at ease of the prospect, I was quite happily anxious at the thought of leaving the castle.

After all, there were numerous occasions I found myself wishing to experience the streets outside by foot, to know how different it'd been from home. It felt very limiting having only seen Jinsei behind the small window of a drawn carriage.

With a tucked pouch full of silver and a passable dress, I set on fulfilling that end. My destination led me to the outer gates of the castle, flanked with two guards who were better off tagged as my adversity at this point. Conspiring behind the husk of an old oak tree, I gingerly considered my options, however each one didn't strike me effective, unless there was a different route. A rear gate maybe, a secret passage, or an empty servant's outlet.

My head buzzed from the hot weather and something awfully pesky was poking at my shoulder.

"What are you doing here?"

"Soo-won?" I almost yelped out, turning back to confront him. I swear—this kid's going to give me a heart attack. I straightened my posture, maintaining the image of propriety. "I thought you had your lessons."

Soo-won swayed a little. "They ended awhile ago," he explained, pushing back a blond strand of his hair. "I saw you walk here."

I curved a quizzical brow at him. Clearing my throat, I clarified: "So you followed me here?"

Amusingly, a delicate blush dusted over his cheeks. Pressing my lips together, I withheld the urge to snicker, for his sake.

His seafoam eyes averted away. "You were going the wrong way."

"The wrong way," I repeated, tipping my chin up. "I wasn't lost."

"So you know where you were going," his tone implicated a statement more than a question.

I simply nodded.

"Lili," Soo-won whispered conspiratorially, "why are you heading towards the gates then?"

"I was," I started, after stopping at mid-sentence. I blinked at him, realizing that I may have underestimated the boy in front of me. My mind raced and it hadn't been difficult conceiving a credible excuse, but it meant returning back to the gardens and the niceties and the flowers. Screw the flowers. Sucking breath through my teeth, I proposed to him instead: ". . .do you want to sneak out of here?"

Perhaps, the boy had been unsuspecting of me at first because he took my proposition with astonishment. After all, hadn't I always presented myself to be such a good obedient daughter around him?

However it did get on my nerves; for someone so young, I couldn't read the hidden thoughts that swam on his head. Soo-won was quiet and deliberate for a second before collecting his words. His head cocked to the side. "Is Lady Han-byeol aware about this?"

Oh, don't start. I schooled my face into that of calm and insouciance. "No," I said, muttering in a child-like tone: "don't tell."

His mouth was sealed and his eyes told no promises, but Soo-won still kept an open ear. Unpredictable as ever.

But I did notice the patience in his gaze. I dragged out a sigh. "I'm curious. I've never set foot out once," was my admittance, neither embellished nor truncated. If it was the honesty of my intentions he wanted, then so be it. "Mother wouldn't allow me outside."

Soo-won mulled over my reason. In a way, I thought he may have understood the sentiment. He'd been no different from me after all; a blue-blooded child barred within the confines of family name and obligation. "Don't go there," he responded, causing my ears to perk up. "Those gates are always guarded. Come with me," his feet decidedly moved, swerving back to a different path, "there's one here where the servants use. . ."

I followed him, boldly posing the question: "You're helping me?"

"I thought you said you want to go outside," Soo-won didn't deny what I asked, but he didn't spare me a glance either. "Do you change your mind?"

Resolutely, I told him, "No."

And so he took the lead and I stalked behind him.

I sighed once again. I strode forward until we walked side by side.

The boy was still somewhat ignoring me.

"Soo-won."

"Yes?"

"Are you going outside too?"

"You don't have someone to guide you out," Soo-won replied, his robes billowing from the wind, "and back here."

My arms crossed petulantly. "I don't easily get lost."

Soo-won shrugged. "Okay."

I pouted at that.

"Soo-won."

"Hm?"

Taking a deep breath, I raised the question: "Why are you sneaking out?"

And then I waited and waited. Soo-won stopped; something shone in his eyes. "I want to go outside."

—

From the path we trod laid the winding road strewn with the terraced rice fields and the straw and stone huts of the farmers—whom, from our stroll, acknowledged Soo-won with a warm boisterous welcome and he returned each with bright-eyed sentiments. There was familiarity, a kinship almost with the manner they interacted, as if he'd been one of the plowman's sons.

Won, they would endearingly say, followed by a string of sentences of how he'd grown tall and he should visit more often; the latter earning a quick chide from the elders: "Now, now, you should know better, the lot o' you. Won's still needs to continue on with his studies," said the most outspoken of them and then began to pat Soo-won's head, "but it don't mean you can't visit us, Won."

The young farmers and herders would scratch their heads bashfully, grumbling under their breaths. One of the grain women cried out, "But Won hasn't come back for two full moons. Look at poor Hei, been wondering where little Won's at," she gesturing at the dog that rested lovingly at the boy's feet, its white tail wagging. "Besides everyone's been waiting too."

And so everyone did, and they came forward, motioning us to the long tables from the front yard of their residence, where some of the farmer's wives and daughters prepared meals outdoors. There were peppers and rice grains dried under the sun, steaming pots, and even wild hare skewered over the cooking fires. They insisted we join them for luncheon, especially the elders, whom generously fed us with a humble meal of rice porridge, a salad of lettuce and perilla leaves drenched with sweet vinegar, and salted eggs. There would also be halved pears and strawberries on bowls, and then eventually servings of black tea that had a very distinct sharp scent.

As they gathered together, they chattered on the table while some stuffed their mouths and a few hauled out a fresh batch of dishes. It had none of the formality of a nobleman's dining hall, but it was rather affably raucous whenever my eye caught one of them jeering from a harmless joke or even when siblings had small petty quarrels over who-got-this-first.

There would be elders who would scold, men who would call over their old mothers and wives to the table, and the family dog would sneakily get morsels of vegetables from a fussy child. The togetherness brought a nostalgic feeling in my chest, and for a moment, I might have just forgotten that I sat next to Soo-won, who was laughing alongside them because of an inside joke.

Sitting opposite from us, a man named Mako spoke, "Hey, Won, aren't you going to introduce us to your new friend?" he plucked a gingko nut from a bowl and popped it on his mouth.

Soo-won's eyes blinked owlishly. "Oh," he began, sending a cursory glance at me, "this is—"

"I'm Lili," I smiled genuinely. "Nice to meet you all."

My sudden change in tone and manner did catch him off guard. It'd been overfamiliar and perky, lacking all the subtle lilt of the Water tribe's reserved intonation. The look on Soo-won's face was priceless, to be honest.

They murmured happily among themselves; while the some cooed, the others flushed at the introduction.

Mako leaned on his palm. The sunspots on his cheeks creased from a telling grin. "Where're you from, Lili?"

Debating whether to be honest or not, I considered to act on the former. "Suiko."

"All the way from the south, eh?" Mako replied in pleasant surprise before calling out to the others: "Isn't Pyo from the south?"

"I ain't deaf! I'm right here," grouched a slouched man three seats away from Mako. "Who's from the south?"

"This little miss 'ere. All the way from water capital, she says," Mako gestured, thumb pointed at my direction. "Cute, ain't she?" he complimented even, but the question was met with aloof disregard.

Where Mako was warmly approachable and tanned, the other man was a stark contrast with his icy greetings and his eyes, like cold cruel pieces of malachite stone. His hair was graying too, vaguely reminding me of white ash against burnt charcoal. "Pyong-ho."

Mirroring his straightforwardness, I replied in earnest, "Lili."

His thick brows lifted in mild surprise. "Not shy, hm."

I arched a brow at him. "No."

Pyong-ho huffed, sliding in an offhand snide: "water kids are always shy snobs."

"Not all," I told him with a shrug, "but I guess that's true."

Pyong-ho didn't comment further. "Suiko, huh," he grilled me beneath his unblinking stare; it almost felt like being swallowed whole in a frigid gulf of sea-green. I didn't let myself be daunted. "I'm from Nairiso, pretty sure ya haven't heard of it."

"Near Sensui, right?" my lips smiled at the disclosure and the barest dent of shock from the man's inexpressive face. "I know a . . . friend who lives there," and then I was overcome with nostalgia by the words Dae-ho shared to me from a memory of hot tea and biscuits: "he says the coasts there have a nice view of the sea." That they were big and blue and beautiful.

On the other hand, Pyong-ho had none of the soft sentiments my bodyguard held as he swirled the red-brown brew from his cup, pale eyes callous and ruminative. "Coasts, eh. Sure, it's pretty," he lifted a nonchalant shrug, finally drinking his tea through a large gulp. "Tell me, kid, there still fishy business goin' around?"

"Pyo, don't just ask this kinda thing to the kid," Mako bawled out, stamping a hand on the table. "Look. You think she knows a thing or two about nada—" he paused at mid-sentence once he stole a quick glance at me, "things that happen there."

"I left the place for a reason," retorted Pyong-ho from the edge of his teeth, unaffected of the reprimand. Slouched and bent as he was, nothing appeared to thaw the bleak coldness in his eyes. He scratched the scar on his chin. "Psh, was just askin', anyways."

"Not like Lili knows 'bout it," Mako sighed in his tolerance, and then he shot me a look. "Do you, Li?"

I shook my head honestly, but the suspicion clung to me, like a ghost on my shoulder.

"See? Pyo, whydda have to be all broodin' around the kids, huh," Mako shook his head, making him appear like a disapproving parent. "That's why they don't like you."

Rolling his eyes, Pyong-ho scoffed. "Won likes me."

"Won likes everyone!"

A wooden bowl of fresh strawberries was pushed at my direction by a stout woman—Duri, was it? "Don't let him getcha, Li." Sitting next to Mako, Duri flashed me a smile, and as she leaned forward, she whispered conspiratorially: "Old Pyo always talks like that."

A freckled hand from my left plucked a large strawberry; the gesture meant to ease me to casualness. Ji-hye, whom I believed was Mako's younger sister, ate the red fruit whole. "You don't havta listen. He's sorta in a mood, must've been from the fields earlier," she said, chewing in contemplation. "Try the strawberries, Li," she motioned the bowl, taking a glance over my cup. "Oh, your tea's getting cold."

I would have bashfully declined the offer of another refill however Ji-hye was quick to snatch my half-empty cup, pouring the steaming black tea from the nearby earthen pot. Deciding to take a strawberry, I took a small bite. It was such a lusciously sweet contrast against the warmth of a dark malty brew and a bland-tasting porridge. I helped myself with another picking of strawberries.

Ji-hye, with the endearing spirit of an older sister, beamed at me. "You're in luck, you know. Grandma Hama's just bought one of those clay pots. They say those make the tea taste better."

And so there the conversations went. One after the other in a storm of words, changing and hurtling.

Distantly, one of them voiced out: "Eh? Aren't those overpriced? You shouldn't have bought 'em."

And then another. "But they say the best silks come from Kai."

"—better than ours, anyways."

"—did you know the. . ."

"Why would the King offer our land to Kai? That's doesn't. . ."

". . .but nothing ever changes. . ."

"—pshh, our soldiers are. . ."

"—useless—"

". . .in my time, when King Joo-nam wasn't old and ailing with—"

"—and the Crown Prince should've—"

"Hm, I heard a rumor about the fire capital yesterday that—"

"—you got a nice catch there, Won," Mako's voice interrupted. He grinned from ear to ear, winking at the flustered boy.

Soo-won seemed more horrified than embarrassed.

Taken aback, my brow twitched.

What am I, a snake?

"Don't tease him," said Duri, who jerked him with her elbow, making the man sputter out a chuckle.

"Am not. Besides he doesn't bring any girls at all," Mako defended. "It's just that mountain brat."

Mountain brat, I pondered, uttering aloud: ". . .Hak?"

Blinking, Mako stared curiously at me. "Eh, Li, you know the mountain brat too?"

This even drew Soo-won's attention and I had to tamp the urge to cuss.

"Uh, I've seen him before," was my minutely reason, and as to excuse myself, I appended: "though I haven't met him."

"Oh, good, I don't like him," Mako confessed with a wide guiltless smile. "Mountain brat doesn't know when to respect his elders."

"Stop gossiping behind his back," another man scolded next to him. "The kid's pretty all right."

Mako snorted at that. "Rude, you mean!"

"He's quiet all the time."

"He does have a smart mouth."

"That's because ya made fun of the kid's feathers!"

"And Uncle Mako also underestimated him," Soo-won intervened. "Hak doesn't like that."

"Oh no, Won, not you too," Mako exclaimed, his head shaking in dejection. Most of them amusingly rolled their eyes and uttered hushed remarks under their breaths, while some openly laughed at his droll behavior—Mako could be such a loud animated man, quite frankly—and I found myself doing the same. Soo-won was a little too pleased and expectant of the reaction, holding back a chuckle.

At the back of my mind, it hit me: his innate charisma had always been a distinct quality of his character. However in my speculation, it never occurred to me when I witnessed it before my eyes that these common folk loved him. Truly, unbelievably—I thought once more, despite his social standing as the Crown Prince's son. This earned him a sliver of my awe. Glancing at him now in lively conversation about something as mundane as a dog and rice bowls made me crack a smile, but some part of me ached too.

Could I still hate this boy more for what he would become—the traitor, the usurper of the throne, if I'd known this side of him?

I feared the question—that fateful night, the betrayal—and thus acted in a passive dismissiveness that I grew to be ashamed and accustomed of. Eventually the visit had come to an end; he beckoned for me onwards, ardent still from his reunion, after waving smilingly in farewell. The best I could do was simper at these villagers. They were kind and earnest in heart, good people I'd love to meet again.

We continued on, and from afar, the road almost appeared like a dirt snake from the high sprawling district; at the end of the lane were the townhouses, along with their wood sheds and low stone hedges. The open market greeted me through sights of a variety of stalls—clothes and wares, poultry, fruits and vegetables. The fish vendors mongered their shellfish, the tradesmen sold their import silks and porcelain, and there was even a commotion over the region's popular sweet potatoes. For a moment, I was in wonder of the bustle and the humid heat and the sounds and smells of the market.

I curiously watched a child beam over painted wooden tops and fish kites from a toy booth. "Are you familiar of Niwa Market?"

Soo-won sent me considering look. "I have heard of them from Master Mundok," he told me, thumb cupped on his chin, "the flower market, yes?"

I bobbed my head, reminiscing the first time Haru brought me there. "Have you been there?"

His lips pulled into a slight frown. "No," Soo-won said with a touch of longing. "But I'd like to see it."

"It's nice," I reassured him, in which he regarded me with mild interest. "It's a bit like this, I believe. Only it's louder and larger and nothing outmatched its flowers. There were all sorts of things there too," and I sighed at the memory, knowing full well I was getting sidetracked with this self-indulgent confession: "I suppose I kind of miss it."

As if sensing the nostalgia in my tone, Soo-won gave me a smile, and in a gentle utter, he offered kindly, "I could show you around here, if you'd like."

With a nod, I let him.

—

The wild apricots are cheaper here than in Suiko, I took note, adding to my recollection: Jinsei's plump strawberries, taro root, and, of course, sweet potato. Teas such as mugwort and smoked-dried pine were a commodity however other choices like sweet flower teas were very limited in stock against the surplus of their strong black blends.

"—lychee?" I recognized it from a cluster of the ripe red fruit presented from a nearby stand.

"Hm?" Soo-won peered next to me, inspecting the lychee bundles. "Ah, so it is."

I blinked, dumbfounded. From my observation, lychee didn't grow in these kinds of lands and climate, and I was almost prepared to inquire the fruit vendor about it when he detected my intentions: "It's an import from Kai. It's also very sweet than it appears," his head tilted at me, but it belied that slight calculation in his stare. This close, I could see the figurative winding of gears in his mind. "If you're curious."

I stopped at my tracks. Had he actually been scrutinizing me this whole time?

Soo-won should be seven at this point and to be that sharp was something I was wise enough to not draw his attention to. I excused myself through telling him that I rarely saw lychee from our wet markets, which was partially the truth, and we went on sauntering about the area. He didn't impose to question me further about it.

We went on with our stroll, crossing over pathways that were decked with shops and stalls. Even within the bustle of it all, the boy was familiarly known in these parts, often greeted or beckoned to come forward. There was the occasional pat on the head, the informal name-calling, and a terse exchange of greetings. From the sweet potato stall, there was a kind elderly woman who even offered us candied sweet potatoes wrapped in dried bamboo leaf. I was prepared to pay however she declined smilingly: "A friend of little Won's should receive the same favor, no?"

We're not friends, though. Tucking my pouch back in my sleeve, I didn't repress an amused smile. I nodded to the sweet potato vendor. "Thank you."

Somehow, I did manage to buy two more candied sweets for half the price from her stall.

"A lot of people seem to know you here," I mentioned, as we walked together. A painted parasol was caught in my line of sight. "Are you that popular?"

Nibbling on a sugary potato wedge, Soo-won was quick to point out. "Why did you buy two more?"

"These are for my bodyguards," I said, eyeing the makeshift bag knotted from green-dyed cloth that carried the sweets. "About that question. . ."

Soo-won tapped a finger to his chin, musing aloud: "Oh. I should have bought one for mine too."

"Mister Joo-doh is yours, right?"

"Yup."

"Do you always go out from the castle?" I asked harmlessly, anticipating for a response, as I took a bite of my sweet potato. "You seem very familiar of the places."

Then a casual shrug. His wandering eyes watched over the store fronts. "I believe so."

I persisted, regardless. "Without your bodyguard?"

Soo-won blinked at me, losing his appetite altogether. "Lili," he began; a raindrop slid on his cheek. His hand stretched out. "It's—"

I gawked up. The skies were as bright as a mother-of-pearl, hazed over by a soft stream of pale mist, but the rain poured still over our faces; a hopeful rain that gleamed a pale, pale gold. There was a breeze, warm with vapor; it winnowed over the skirts of my dress, brushed against my cheek and hair like a mother's infinite caress. "It's raining," I whispered, but the sun beamed still in its heavens, over awnings and wet grass and heads of hair.

I felt a tug, my eyes blinking over small fingers curled on my damp sleeve. Eyes like the sea stared at me, flecked in gold. The sun must be in them. For an interval, I forgot about the sweetness of the rain, the footfalls splashing over puddles, and the orange petals trampled under my shoe, when the boy led me under a canopy covering.

We waited in that small corner with the cold on our shoulders. I would have offered my handkerchief to him for wiping his water-streaked face if he hadn't done so first to me, which I kindly declined. Wet and soggy from the downpour, our candied sweet potatoes were left uneaten on the ground. I tightly clutched onto the makeshift bag. At least, that was saved from the rain.

Sniffing, Soo-won looked up. "A marriage between a sun crow and a turtle," he muttered under his breath before flushing at the confused look I sent him. "Ah, i-it's a saying here when it's raining like this."

I did reflect on it, the realization washing over me like a wave. "Oh, that saying." His chagrin didn't suit him well, rare and amusing as it was, and as to relieve him, I shared smilingly: "Where I'm from, they believe a sea dragon gave birth," I recalled, mulling over belatedly that Haru had brought up a different saying. "Actually, there's a lot, now that I think about it. It's a bit silly, isn't it?"

Soo-won nodded, simpering back in agreement. Beneath his blond lashes, he then gazed on a riveting pair in the gentle rain: it was an adolescent boy who carried his old mother from his back.

I couldn't tell what dwelled within his mind at that moment; if his eyes were overcast from a complicated thought. Soo-won was just quiet. But he did sigh. It was brief and inaudible, like a fleeting sentiment. "I, Lili," he began, grappling for words, "I appreciate it."

I was a bit startled from his words. I prompted him very carefully, "What for?"

A small half-smile curved his lips. "For spending time with my mother," Soo-won said in a sincere voice, gaze lowered to his feet. "She seems happy around you, even when she's in a sickbed," he shifted a little; there's something akin to a haze clouding his eyes. I sought for it still, that sliver of sunlight. He mumbled softly this time, maybe to himself: "even though I should have done. . ."

Better, I supplied, my eyes softening. His mother must mean the world to him.

Soo-won had always been such a peculiar boy. Sometimes, he felt too mature, too perfect, for his age. A paragon of the good son who knew what to say and act, given the situation; however the illusion faded like mist upon seeing him now, covering the tide of emotions he must have been uncertain on, must have kept for quite a time. It stumbled on his tone after all, that wishful thinking.

"She talks a lot about you, you know." I disclosed to him in high hopes I could lift his mood. This made his eyes widen and I was a little happy when he listened to me. "You can always join us," my voice went on, words reaching and reaching, "I think she'll be happier when you're there, Soo-won."

Soo-won was at a loss of words.

For awhile, I was quiet and terrified at the prospect that I must have crossed the line too far. This wasn't supposed to be my concern after all. But I had to assure him, to just let him know she loves him so much too because I could tell how he strove so hard just to be that perfect child. My fists clenched. I realized that now, bit by bit, why you're the way you are.

Resigning myself to a sigh, I tried to appease the stagnant air between us. "Besides, we can learn and read Kaisho together," I suggested, feeling a tad daft for uttering it aloud because he must have already had a teacher for that subject. I offered him a tentative smile anyway. However it felt too uneasy to be a convincing one. "She's really good at teaching me."

"She's," Soo-won awkwardly cleared his throat, "She's very good at it," he did attempt to smile back at me, shaken as mine was. The air between us grew thick and heavy, a painful silence wrought within, just when the skies cleared and the rain ceased; yet even the sun seemed to still cower behind its shroud of rainclouds.

Pursing his lips, Soo-won opened his mouth, uncertain whether to speak or not. On the other hand, the apprehension clawed on my throat.

Here we were again, with our high walls and shutters.

"Lady Lili."

"Lord Soo-won."

And I finally breathed out.

As if the unresolved confrontation hadn't happened, we moved on with our facades. Stepping out of the awning, we were met by the familiar profiles of our bodyguards.

Pale with anger, Joo-doh stood tall and stern; his brows furrowed and his expression unrelentingly harsh. "Had I not always told you to not wander out without permission? You should have brought along a bodyguard at least," he chastised, his voice raised and thundering. "And you had to bring Lady Lili with you, you reckless boy."

"We're really fine, Joo-doh," Soo-won was unfazed with the manner his lips pulled up, treating his bodyguard's reprimand like a normal occurrence. "We just spent our time from the farmlands and the market, is all."

"Like what he said," I smiled innocently before an unconvinced Dae-ho.

"That was still irresponsible of you to not tell a single soul," Joo-doh frowned at the boy's sheepish grin. "Your mother was looking for you."

"Like what he said," Dae-ho repeated my words, which almost made me cry out 'copycat.' Regardless, Dae-ho wouldn't have really cared if I did call him out on it. "Your nursemaids are also in a flurry, might I add."

"They are always like that," I retorted before handing him the candied sweet potatoes I bought him. "Oh, and this is yours. You should share it with Se-hun." The man in question was absent and I would have inquired the reason behind it though it wasn't necessary to ask. Dae-ho and Joo-doh were quite capable enough in scouring for the two of us, which did render me curious on how they interacted than cooperated in their search. I grinned when Dae-ho accepted my treat, sparing me an overdue rebuke. Mother, however, might not take this escapade just as lightly.

I took a step forward. "Mister Joo-doh."

His brown eyes darted at me. "Lady Lili," Joo-doh acknowledged, and in an attempt to temper down his tone, he asked as neutral-sounding as he could: "what is it?"

His voice had still retained its coarseness from the heat of his scolding earlier and his fixed stare remained sharp as steel, but I did consider the thought that he tried to be approachable anyway. He appeared like the kind of man who could scare children with a scowl. "I was the one who wanted to go outside," I confessed, even though I hadn't been fully contrite about it. My head dipped respectfully in apology. "He came along because I didn't have anyone with me. I'm to blame so I'm sorry for worrying everyone for my actions."

Joo-doh tensed, blowing out a winded sigh. "Lady Lili, you don't have to," he spoke out minutely. "Please, stand straight. That isn't necessary." Once I abided to his request, only then did he appear relieved. Clearing his throat, he composed himself. "Regardless, whether if he came along to keep you in check, he should have still told someone that the both of you intend to take a stroll outside. Just as you should have done as well."

Then there returned his open aggravation. "It's not safe for noble children to wander about so recklessly."

"I understand," I nodded, producing the other spare of sweets from my makeshift bag. Frankly, this was supposed to be for Se-hun. "You can have this."

His forehead creased. "You don't have to, my lady."

"Oh please take it," I insisted. From the corner of my eye, I shot a quick glance at the boy and mused at the back of my mind if I was going out of my way to save his skin as well. I brushed it aside, in vain. "You look quite famished, Mister Joo-doh. Take it as compensation."

Joo-doh directed a questioning glance at Dae-ho, who returned the gesture with a nod, as if it sent the message: you should just accept it.

—

"Dae-ho," I began, as we ambled behind the bantering pair before us. "Tell me about the coasts in your home."

Insouciant, Dae-ho shrugged. "They're like coasts."

Shooting him an accusing look, I pouted. "You said before that they were beautiful."

Dae-ho drew a quiet breath; his jade-green eyes ever so calm and distant. I pondered how far could they stare ahead, from the northern mountains to the seashores. Then he spoke, as if it had always been common knowledge: "Aren't they all?"

Sometimes, I wished that I saw things as he did. His beautiful blue coasts, where the rolling seas lapped against the rocks. "Did you ever think of going back?"

There was no need for words when the question was met with a nod that resonated louder than a voice.

This time, it was his turn to inquire. "Why would you ask?"

Uncertain at first, I held his hand. His palm was calloused from years of wielding a blade but it was warm against mine; a warmth, I believed, he always had, deep inside. I inhaled. "I met someone who used to live in Nairiso," I admitted, my gaze dropping as low as the hems my skirts, "He said that. . ." and then my voice failed me when it lapsed into a faint dull mumble, "bad things were happening there."

His large hand gripped onto mine, a firm gentle squeeze. A sigh shuddered out of his lips. "You don't have to concern yourself with that, my lady."

—

From the winding path, we returned back to Biryuu Castle; the gasp of a brewing storm echoing behind our backs.

Exposition corner:

There lay the Moon wept: a poem from Kai poet Kohyoe about the metaphorical telling of her personal relationship with her late son. Another reflection of Yong-hi's life and maybe some foreshadowing. Don't get me wrong, Lili had no idea that this particular poem would hit too close to home for Yong-hi. Anyway, as for a more specific interpretation, I leave it up to you, my dear readers. I'll write about Hogai's poems someday.

"A marriage between a sun crow and a turtle" and "A sea dragon gave birth": one of the many folkloric sayings or names referred to sunshowers, which varies from regions and even countries.

A common saying in Jinsei and other highland provinces is the former. A sun crow is a reference to the three-legged crow or the golden crow in East Asian mythology, which is a creature that is believed to live and represent the sun; whereas turtles are believed to come from the moon. Jinsei's interpretation of this is meant to represent good luck and a happy union for two unlikely creatures to be together.

On the other hand, the latter saying is more or less taken seriously by believers and fanatics, but symbolically, it means a celebrated renewal or rebirth.

(Yes, yes, I know I'm so unsubtle. I'll hide back inside my hole now.)

kaelmagi: 'I wonder if the reason Soo-won reached out a little is because he reminded her of his mother.'

Actually. . .yes, sort of. Since I couldn't really write his pov here, I'll confirm that she does give off that vibe, but he didn't immediately sense it because Lili reminded him of his mother but because since he'd been familiar with his mother's depressive moods, he was able to easily recognize and sympathize with Lili's feelings.

Lindsey: 'Where do you get all these ideas? Like seriously, man, it's like reading a mini-encyclopedia of the AnY world!'

So I'll come out clean and admit that I'm actually a bit insecure about that haha. Whenever I come back to just reread the whole thing in editing, I feel as if I went over my head with the details and info here and there. It's fun, but after awhile, it does make me cringe a little. So it's nice to see a lot of you enjoyed some of the non-canon stuff.

Everyone, just holler out if I went overboard with my schtick, 'kay? That would be appreciated!

A/N: Sorry, this took longer than it should! I had to split this into two chapters. I hope I'm not boring anyone, though. Having rushed this piece, I'll edit it out later. Anyway, so yes, it did take these two at least a year to talk casually with each other (seriously, these kids). A solid friendship, however, might just take some time to build up so I hope you don't mind a slow burn. Evidently enough, from that painfully awkward market scene. I'm still keeping my fingers crossed if I got baby Soo-won's character right.

There isn't any indication yet as to where Soo-won actually lived, but I'm just going along with my headcanon that he did live somewhere outside of Kuuto. I find a rural environment more befitting for someone as social as him, considering that in most rural communities, people did know each other well—that's at least what I know from personal experience.

It's really great to know that most of you liked Lili befriending Yong-hi! I'm actually getting a little anxious with her interpretation in the manga (if she ever makes an appearance), but since I'm changing things here, I'm keeping her characterization like this.

So far, I hope the story's pacing is doing well. Constructive criticism is welcome! Once again, thank you to all my wonderful readers!